


Five Finger Love Punch

by Arabwel



Series: Sugar and Spice [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Come Marking, Come Sharing, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Peter Hale, Fisting, Fluff, Fluffy fisting, I plow you to the moon and watch you cum across the stars., Marriage Proposal, Multiple Orgasms, Romance, Vaginal Fisting, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: Chris is patient, he likes the wait, likes it when she makes him wait. Petra is greedy; she wants it all and she wants it now, and he’s more than happy to provide. 
***Or, the continued bedroom adventures of Chris Argent and Petra Hale





	

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks for everyone on tumbl and Discord who made this fic possible and put up with me <3
> 
> Happy Petopher week, lovelies!

Petra loves having his fingers in her; Chris has known this ever since their first frantic encounter, when they’d bitten more than kissed. She rode his hand, the zipper of her jeans leaving deep welts on his wrist, eyes going wide when she came with a little oh that was at odds with her snark and fury. 

Unlike the fact that she’d shook herself loose, kissed him one more time and then left him there, cock hard in his pants and fire in his blood. But that was not the first time he’d take himself in hand thinking of Petra Hale, and certainly not the last. He got her back a few weeks later, eating her out against a tree in the preserve till she screamed his name, the claw marks on his leather jacket completely worth it. 

Now she’s in his bed, pliant in his arms after a long, hot bath and he’s kissing her neck, leaving marks that heal too fast; there's a blooming bruise on his collarbone from earlier and that’s the spot where he worries her flesh even as his fingers slide over her inner thighs, teasing and edging close to where she wants them most. 

Petra moans, tilting her hips to give him better access, her fingers curling into his hair and tugging gently. “Stop being a tease,” she tells him, a little breathless. 

Chris grins and lets his fingertips graze her, feels how wet she is already, how ready. She parts her thighs for him eagerly and he doesn’t hesitate to slide two of his fingers inside her in one smooth move. 

He kisses her again, swallows the hungry little oh sounds she makes as she rocks her hips up into his hand, pushing herself towards a quick little orgasm. 

“Give me more,” she pants against his lips, fingers curling into the sheets. 

She’s quivering around his fingers, inhumanly hot and so wet it’s easy for him to slide in a third, to graze his thumb against her clit and make her back arch as she chases her pleasure. 

Petra comes again, eyes flashing supernatural blue. Chris groans, the way she moans going straight through to his cock, has him grinding against the sheets as he keeps fucking her with his fingers through her orgasm. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Her words are a challenge but she’s smiling, like she knows she will always get what she wants from him, like the cat who got the canary in a gift basket. 

Chris doesn’t respond, just curls his fingers upward, strokes her just so and she throws her head back and moans. He slides in a fourth finger, gets his fingers up to the knuckle and lets her ride his hand, get herself off.

He loves watching her like this, watching her come; he’s patient, he likes the wait, likes it when she _makes_ him wait. Petra is greedy; she wants it all and she wants it now, and he’s more than happy to provide. 

He’s drenched to the wrist when she comes down from her orgasm, eyes fluttering open. She licks her lips, a brief look of contemplation passing her face. 

“I want more,” she says softly, tilting her hips against his hand. 

Chris’s mouth goes dry at her words. “You mean - “

“Want me to draw you a picture?” 

Chris shakes his head and slowly pulls his hand out a little, gives her clit one last teasing stroke with his thumb before he folds it against his fingers. 

His breath catches in his throat as he carefully presses forward, just a tiny bit. Petra whines, the sound tinged with impatience and lust. It goes straight into his cock, sends a near painful throb of lust through him and he moves in to kiss her, to swallow the noises she makes. 

Her thighs clench around his arm, hold him in place as she bucks against him, trying to force him deeper, faster; Chris shakes his head, nips at her lower lip as he reaches for the bedside drawer with his free hand. 

“Want to make sure you’re slick enough, baby girl,” he murmurs against her lips as he fumbles for the lube. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

She laughs and runs her too-sharp nails over his taut abdomen, tugging at his treasure trail as he fights to stay balanced. “Don’t call me that.” But she’s smiling. 

Chris leans down to kiss her again, feels her fangs coming in as he pulls back and their eyes meet, blue on supernatural blue. 

Petra looks breathless in anticipation, her legs slowly parting as he moves back, moves to a better position for what she wants. What they both want, anticipation a thrill going down his spine as he slowly uncaps the lube one-handed. 

He can feel her tremble around his fingers, against his hand; she’s wet, her body aching to welcome all of him but even with her wolf healing he doesn’t want to hurt her - not now, not with this. There’s a time and place for pain in their relationship, in their bed even, but not here. 

She yelps when he lets the cool lube drip over his hand, over her heated flesh. 

“That’s cold!” 

Chris grins as she squirms, as he pulls his hand back far enough to make sure his knuckles and thumb are well coated. He remembers the night he tied her down and used the machine on her the first time, the way she swore at him for not warming up the lube, how she screamed out his name when she came. 

How she told him she loved him, for the first time. 

“Do it, Chris,” Petra’s eyes flash blue as she braces herself on the bed on her elbows, fingers digging into the sheets. “Give it to me.”

There’s nothing he wouldn’t give her, he realizes as he tucks his thumb against his fingers, as he leans closer to slowly, inexorably push his hand into her. She moans, deep and low, her hips moving as she bears down on him. She’s so wet, so red around him, her body inhumanly hot and for a moment it feels like he’ll never slide in, that’s it’s too much - 

She cries out when his knuckles slide past the rim and his hand slides inside her. 

“You feel incredible;” he murmurs as he slowly moves his hand, eyes glued to where his wrist disappears into her body. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.” 

Petra’s eyes flash blue and he sees her fangs when he looks up, looks at her pleasure-stricken face. She looks breathtaking, sweat beading on her forehead and her lips parted. She’s moaning, low and throaty, little almost pained sounds filled with desire somewhere between a plea and his name. 

Chris draws his hand into a fist and Petra keens, her body arching as she bucks against him, almost drowning out the sound of the sheets tearing under her claws.

He keeps talking as she rocks herself on his hand, as she draws deep shuddery breaths and comes hard, the grip of her body like a vise around his hand, the bones of his wrist grinding together. He tells her how gorgeous she is, how beautiful, tells her to take it, take what she wants from him as he rubs his fingers over her clit, lets her rut against his hands. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he pants as he leans forward to kiss her, flexing his fingers inside her as she whines high in her throat. He’s so deep inside her, it feels like he’s holding her heart in his hand like this. “Marry me.” 

And he doesn’t know where it came from, only that he means it, means it with every fiber of his being as she comes apart around him, sobbing out an orgasm that has her going completely limp and boneless underneath him. 

Chris tucks his fingers together and pulls them out slowly with infinite care. His hand feels almost pruned, the cool air a shock after the heat of her body.

Petra’s eyes flutter open and she smiles softly. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her eyes pointedly wandering downwards. 

Chris hasn’t forgotten, hasn’t stopped being hard for a moment while she’s been coming apart in his hands. But this, taking himself in hand as he kneels above her, meeting her half-lidded eyes as she stretches languorously, completely fucked out, it makes it so much better. 

He groans when he wraps the hand that was just inside her around his cock: his grip is smooth and wet as he jerks himself off; the arousal he’s kept in check for what feels like hours pools at the bit of his belly, flashes down his spine. 

“Do it,” she says breathlessly as he speeds up his strokes, “I want to see you.”

Her words push him over the edge, the orgasm punching out of him almost violently. He comes all over her belly, her thighs, where she’s still open from his hand, the white stark against the reddened flesh. 

Chris slumps forward, barely stopping himself before he lands on her; he gazes at her as he catches his breath, at the lovely picture she paints like this, her pale skin flushed and covered with his seed. 

Petra wiggles impatiently and when he leans forward, tongue tasting both of them as it drags along the crease of her thigh, she giggles. The sound seems to surprise her as much as it does him and she moves to push him away, the movement almost futile. 

“Oh, stop - don’t stop that,” the words come out a demanding moan as he slowly laves his tongue over her skin, licks his come from her belly, inching closer to where she’s still hot and swollen.

She cries out when he reaches his goal, lapping at her most sensitive places, the taste of her intoxicating. He crawls up the bed, arms bracketing her body and dips his head to kiss her, to let her share the tang of them mixed together. 

Her eyes burn bright blue when he pulls back; he doesn’t speak for a longest moment before he moves to grasp her left hand in his, to bring it to his lips. 

“Will you hold what I said against me?” he asks her, lips brushing against her ring finger. 

“Yes, Christopher. I will.”


End file.
